Red Rope of Fate

by Shea, K. M.

  King Celrin gazed at the far end of the crumbling stone building. A group of roughly ten elves had assembled there. “The betrayer is here,” he said, coming to stand next to Tari.

  “Yes,” Tari agreed, staring at her opponents.

  King Celrin glanced down at Tari. “Words cannot describe my regrets over this matter, Tarinthali. I am sorry you are carrying this burden for us.”

  Tari shook her head. “Fighting is not a burden for an Evening Star, My King Celrin.”

  “Of that I am aware,” King Celrin said as he started to glide away from her, staff extended. “But fighting an opponent you love is a weighty load, even for an Evening Star.”

  King Celrin took up a position between the two parties. The other elves were too far away to distinguish individual faces, but they were within shouting distance. King Celrin cleared his throat before trumpeting in lilting elvish, “Tonight a challenger and a defender will engage in battle according to the laws of our ancestors and cousins, the High Elves. This is a night of sorrow, for the elves of Lessa never glorify the shedding of blood.”

  The translator spoke to Arion, rapidly translating the elf king’s words as Tari stood alone and scuffed her feet on the surprisingly smooth rock floor.

  “The duel was delivered by the challenger, who has proof that she has been wrongfully harmed by the defender. This duel, in accordance with elvish law, allows the challenger to seek retribution against the defender, to deliver the loss the challenger has felt. I stand, not only representing the kings who have come before me, but elvish law; which has never changed. This duel will be both judgment and punishment on the defender for his crimes of intending to harm Tarinthali Ringali. After this duel Tarinthali Ringali will have no claim on her oppressor, although the elvish throne will. Challenger, you may begin at will,” King Celrin finished. His voice was surprisingly booming.

  Tari walked towards her opponents, passing King Celrin as he retreated back to her half of the building. When she was roughly where King Celrin had stood, Tari stopped.

  “This is madness,” Arion muttered.

  Seer Ringali, not able to understand Arion’s words but correctly guessing the general feeling behind them, smacked Arion in the head with his closed parasol. “Tell this guard dog to muzzle himself and to watch my warrior student,” he said to the translator, although his eyes never moved from Tari.

  The defender’s seconds clustered together, swallowing as Tari stared at them.

  “Talon,” Tari said. “Show yourself.”

  Kiva began crying anew and Arion took a step forward. The betrayer was his brother’s bond partner? Tari’s cousin?

  Talon emerged from his seconds, white faced but grim.

  “Why did you do it?” Tari asked.

  “What, Seer Ringali wasn’t able to torture it out of your attackers?” Talon said, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

  “The hired thugs said you offered no reason, only that you paid them well.”

  Talon harshly laughed before he replied, his voice hollow as it echoed in the decaying building. “I was doing it for you. It’s because you deserved better than to be matched to a mere captain.”

  “Do not lie,” Tari growled. Her voice echoed oddly, as if there were a second voice mixed with hers. “You would not have specifically sought out men of Calnor, knowing my vows kept me from unleashing my magic on them because you were offended on my behalf. You would not have attempted to hurt me if it were as you say. Do not pretend this is about me, Talon.”

  Tari’s cousin shifted. “Fine,” he spat. “It was because I could not stand it. We have been tied to a back-water family that the human royals are trying to shun. We have been shamed, I am ashamed.”

  “The petty human fights mean nothing to us, Talon.”

  “Of course they don’t. We’re superior; it’s why we shouldn’t have been bonded in the first place. Humans are trying to use us in their fights! That is unforgiveable!”

  “And kidnapping a relative is so much better?” Tari asked, her words closing down on Talon like a steel trap.

  “You don’t understand,” Talon growled.

  “You are wrong. I understand perfectly. I understand that you are nothing but an angry elf, scrambling for an excuse to shift the blame off yourself. But that is not how our culture works, cousin. Regardless of your outlandish excuse, we are here to settle things,” Tari said.

  “Then let’s settle things,” Talon snapped, unsheathing a sword.

  “Foolish, foolish imbecile,” Seer Ringali muttered, twirling his parasol. “It’s not wise to welcome the tool of your destruction into action.”

  “What?” Arion asked after the translator whispered the translation to him.

  Seer Ringali pointed to Tari before executing the gesture for “watch.”

  Chapter 9

  Evening Star

  Tari reached up and unclasped the latch of her cloak, which slid off her like water. She was wearing what looked like her Evening Star practice uniform. It was completely white—except for the black gloves and boots—and was made of the same slinky material.

  What mostly consumed Arion, though, was the way Tari moved. It was different. She didn’t glide or prance as she usually did, she stalked. Her sauntering gait reminded Arion of a snow cat—one of the most vicious predators on the Continent.

  Talon and his seconds were clearly afraid of her, even though they stood together, weapons extended, outnumbering her 11 to 1.

  Tari cracked her hands as she walked before snapping her arms out. Layers of light formed along her arms, creating a curved blade of sheer light that followed the lines of her muscles.

  The Evening Star abruptly spun, sweeping one leg out and kneeling down as she turned before popping up. The glowing blades hummed and emitted waves of light that crackled in the air like lightning.

  Tari’s Evening Star magic was nothing like the elvish enchanters. Arion thought it would be soft and glowing. Instead it was as sleek, deadly, and as solid as a sword blade.

  The hair on the back of Arion’s neck stood on end as Tari closed in on Talon. She was going to slaughter them.

  Talon yelled and lashed out at Tari. Tari held up her left arm, and the sword shattered against her blade of light. In the same smooth movement she slammed her right arm into Talon’s stomach.

  The blade of light on that arm crackled, and Talon was sent hurtling through the air. He slammed into a stone pillar with a crunch. He hit the ground with a scream of pain, and his seconds panicked.

  Two tried to jump Tari. She pushed her arms out, smashing them with her light blades, and they too were sent flying.

  Some of the seconds dropped their weapons and started running. Others shouted as Tari preyed upon them. Whenever she extended an arm a second would go flying. She caught every one of them, throwing them into the nearest wall, pillar, or the ground.

  Tari turned in a circle, looking at the havoc, but she wasn’t done yet. Circles of light pooled around her on the ground before stretching out. They looked like ornamental etchings in the ground, except they were made of pure light and constantly moved with Tari at the center of their orbit.

  The circles of light extended until they touched the ground beneath Talon and all ten of his seconds. Tari slammed her right foot into the ground, and the circles exploded in flares of light. Talon and his seconds screamed, and the building shook under the crackling pressure of elvish magic.

  A pillar collapsed as the light faded, and Tari slammed her foot down again. The light exploded farther, lapping up the crumbled walls like waves in an ocean.

  Tari sauntered through the blinding and light, stepping over a screaming second like he was rubble.

  The light faded as Tari stood in front of Talon, who was crumpled against the ground. She swooped down—her hands glowing white, and latched onto Talon’s throat, lifting him up by his neck.

  Although he was taller than her and stood—drooping—on his feet, Talon choked and gasped for air. Tari held his nec
k like an iron clamp. Her magic occasionally crackled and fizzed like a firecracker.

  Talon raised his hand, which was faintly glowing, and grappled for Tari’s face. Tari mercilessly caught his arm with her free hand. Her white magic hissed as it traveled from Tari to Talon, shocking him until the air smelled of singed hair and flesh.

  The difference between the two made a stark contrast.

  Talon was a Lesser Elf. His magic was soft and glowing—it had no bite. Looking at Tari, Arion had a new understanding for the legends of the High Elves. Her magic was tempered for war and killing.

  Previously Arion had always thought of her as being soft. Soft butter blonde hair, soft eyes, soft smiles. The Tarinthali Ringali before him had the softness of a man eating snow cat—claws and fangs cloaked in soft fur. Her eyes were hard and unblinking, even as she held her cousin by the throat and he screamed.

  Talon howled. Tari stared at him as she adjusted her grip, turning up the power of her magic.

  She was playing with him, stretching him to his breaking point.

  Arion started walking towards Tari.

  Seer Ringali thrust his parasol in front of Arion, and for the first time since meeting his bond partner’s teacher, Arion realized that Seer Ringali’s ridiculous accessories were weapons in disguise.

  The point of the parasol was a muted copper color, which made people naturally turn their eyes from the dangerous knife tip. The edges were the same copper color—which matched the bird pattern on the wax paper—but they were razor sharp. The edges were metal fashioned so thinly it could make a cut cleaner than a dagger.

  Seer Ringali was also a wolf in a sheep’s fleece.

  “Not necessary,” Seer Ringali signed.

  “She’ll kill him,” Arion said, pointing to Talon.

  Tari had thrown her cousin into a wall and pinned him there with daggers of crackling light magic.

  Seer Ringali spoke, but Arion did not understand it.

  “It’s her right,” the translator said, almost forgotten in the horrible spectacle. “As the challenger she can administer any punishment she likes in this duel. Talon knew of the rules before he attacked her, just as he knew of her power.”

  “I don’t care if it’s her right,” Arion said, pushing the parasol away. “If she kills him she’ll lose a part of herself. That slime is not worth Tari’s pain,” Arion said before he started running, leaving the translator to speak to Tari’s ornamental seconds.

  As Arion ran Tari removed her attention from Talon. She cocked her head as she watched Talon’s seconds flee. She narrowed her eyes and raised her right arm, sweeping it across her body in a snapping motion.

  The light blade on her right arm boomed like a firework and a thin wave of light burst from the blade, growing bigger and brighter as it zoomed away from Tari. When the curved light hit the seconds it burned like elvish sparklers, hissing sparks and smoke. The elves were thrown to the ground like rag-dolls.

  Satisfied, Tari turned back to Talon, planting one of her light blades at his neck. Tears leaked from Talon’s eyes, a sob caught in his throat.

  “Tari,” Arion said, slowing down as he drew close to her. “Tari,” he repeated.

  Tari turned to face him, and Arion felt his heart stop as he came face to face with what remained of the High Elves on the Continent. Tari had no lightness to her. There was no indication on her marble masked face of her normal humor and quick grin. The elf that stared at Arion was one hardened by blades and blood.

  This is still Tari.

  Arion ground his teeth before he forced himself to take a step forward. “Tari, enough. You have proven your point.”

  Tari glanced over her shoulder to study Talon. Talon violently trembled, snot and tears dripped from his face.

  “I don’t think I have,” Tari said, twisting her body in a predator-way that seemed so wrong as she turned to Talon.

  “Tari,” Arion said.

  Tari ignored him and flexed her arms, making her light blades crackle in hunger.

  Arion reached out and grabbed Tari by the shoulder yanking her backwards.

  “What—,” Tari hissed.

  Before she could finish her sentence Arion pulled Tari until her back was flush against chest. He clamped both of his hands over her eyes and leaned forward so he spoke directly into Tari’s tapered, twitching ear. He was so close his lips almost brushed her ear.

  “It’s enough, Tari. I am sorry that I made you carry this burden. I did not know. Words cannot describe my regret, but Tari I am here now and I want to understand,” he said.

  Tari’s seconds strained forward in interest as they watched the spectacle. They could not hear Arion’s words, but the affect of them were evident on Tari.

  Her shoulders shook and she bit her lip. She nodded, and Arion continued to whisper to her. “I am sorry for the things I said, for the things I did not ask. I didn’t want to pry into your life, so I avoided asking you about being an Evening Star. It was my mistake. But you do not want to kill Talon. I know your heart and I know you still love your cousin, even now. That’s why this is enough. Do not force yourself to do anymore.”

  When he leaned away, still sheltering her eyes, Tari shivered as badly as Talon. She twisted in Arion’s arms, hiding her face in his shoulder as her glowing weapons disintegrated.

  Arion carefully picked her up, hooking his arms behind her knees and just below her arms. He carried Tari back to her seconds. The daggers of light that held Talon in place evaporated when Arion reached King Celrin.

  Talon fell to the ground with a painful splat, still shaking and crying.

  Arion inclined his head to King Celrin. “She is the victor. Is there anything that needs to be said?” he asked, still carrying Tari.

  Everyone was quiet for a moment before the translator remembered himself and rushed to translate Arion’s words.

  “No,” King Celrin said.

  When the translator informed Arion of this, the captain bowed.

  “Arion,” Tari said, her voice muffled but urgent.

  Arion started walking, covering distance as fast as he could, ignoring the odd looks Tari’s seconds were giving them.

  He hopped over the remains of a crumbling wall (Tari’s magic had not done the building any favors) and hurried through the gardens.

  He got Tari to a pond before the elf dry heaved, gasping and choking as her stomach churned.

  When Tari’s vomiting subsided, Arion pressed a damp handkerchief to her forehead.

  “Thank you,” Tari said, sagging into Arion in relief.

  Arion curled an arm around her. “Welcome.”

  Arion offered her his strength through his silence as she leaned against him, moving only to dampen the cloth in the pond when necessary.

  Talon and his seconds were removed from the building and attended to by the time Tari stirred.

  “Thank you,” Tari repeated, offering him the cloth.

  Arion nodded.

  “You have questions?” Tari guessed, inhaling shakily before smiling.

  Arion nodded again.

  “Ask away.”

  “Evening Stars are not dancers.”

  “We are, and we are not. We perform as dancers during festivals and for shows—for no other elves can display the physical prowess we have—but that is something we do to lighten our hearts.”

  “What is an Evening Star?”

  Tari leaned back on her hands. “I wondered if you would ever ask me this question. Seer Ringali and I talked for hours about how I might best explain it. Simply put, Evening Stars are the only armed forces Lessa possesses, but we are meant for only one kind of enemy.”

  “Who?”

  “High Elves,” Tari said. Her gaze was cold as she stared across the pond.

  “What?”

  “Your people may believe High Elves are forever gone from the Continent, but we Lesser Elves know better. Before they left the High Elves promised to return, and High Elves always see their oaths through.”
<
br />   “I don’t understand, why would you need to kill High Elves?” Arion said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “For your sake.”

  Arion removed his hand and stared at Tari.

  “For the sake of the men of Calnor,” Tari amended. “Since the beginning the High Elves have been hardened towards mankind,” Tari said before she twisted to gesture at the palace behind them. “High Elves are a proud race; the idea of Nodusigm would disgust them. Even if it is Calnor that is doing us a great honor by protecting Lessa from outsiders… if the High Elves return they would see it as men setting themselves above us. And they would wipe you out.”

  “And you would fight back? You’ve told me before, there are roughly a hundred Evening Stars in your country, that is barely a squad much less an army,” Arion said, shifting to a crouch.

  Tari shook her head. “You think too honorably. The point of the Evening Stars is not that we are combat troops, but assassins.”

  Arion blinked and shook his head.

  “We would strike the High Elves before they saw you. If we killed the leaders and massacred the troops, the High Elves would listen to us. They would be angry with us, yes, but it would make them realize they are entering our Continent now, and that things are not what they used to be.”

  “That’s why Evening Stars are found in port cities, isn’t it? So you can react quickly.”

  Tari nodded.

  “How. How can you fight? Everyone knows Lesser Elves cannot stomach weapons, much less battles.”

  “Ah, now that is the catch. Lesser Elves cannot. As you know, Lesser Elves are cousins of a sort to High Elves. Mostly, we are the offspring of High Elves and men. In most of our population we’ve become a race of our own. But in some of our bloodlines, the blood of the High Elves runs thicker.”

  “…The Royal Family.”

  Tari inclined her head. “Indeed, almost all Evening Stars are related to the royal family. Seer Ringali is King Celrin’s direct cousin. I am also a distant member of the Royal Family.”

  “So is Kiva, and Talon. Why aren’t they Evening Stars?”

  “To be an Evening Star there are three requirements. First of all you must display more traits of High Elves than Lesser Elves. Think of me, what is odd about me compared to most elves?”